I was five years old and visiting my paternal grandparents in another town when I was told my maternal grandfather had died. I had never known anyone who had died before and was confused and thought it was funny. When I was taken back home, I saw my “Papa” lying in a casket and suddenly realized what death meant. The night after the funeral, I was put to bed upstairs near tools removed from his watch repair shop. I awoke to see Papa sorting watch crystals, moving items from drawer to drawer, and finally sharpening knives. I cried out and my mother rushed upstairs. When I told her what I had seen, she told me I was having a bad dream. After she went back downstairs, I tried to go to sleep but was roused by yet another image of Papa. This time he looked at me, placed his index finger over his lips and went back to work. I was no longer frightened and watched him for several minutes. Finally, he turned to me and waved good-bye and disappeared.